


This Love

by hihilumin, IamHobbes



Series: Save Your Breath [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Bad Decisions, HQSwiftWeek2020, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, ohoho YIKES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26488174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihilumin/pseuds/hihilumin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IamHobbes/pseuds/IamHobbes
Summary: The brain of Nekoma, they used to call him; keep the mind working, the blood pumping –– flow, without stopping. It’s not enough to be just rational if you’re not on your feet, if you don’t see the end in mind.If you know what you want and still don’t move to get it.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Series: Save Your Breath [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921648
Kudos: 22
Collections: Haikyuu x Taylor Swift Week 2020





	This Love

_ Lantern, burning _ _   
_ _ Flickered in my mind, only you _ _   
_ _ But you were still gone, gone, gone _

It’s been a rough couple of weeks.

The screen flashes  _ Game over _ , signaling another loss. Kenma throws his head back to look up at the ceiling and groan. The evening is going as well as his last few nights have, it seems, which is to mean not at all, and he’s  _ tired _ –– he’s tired, and helpless, and alone, in more ways than one.

Friday nights typically spent in the company of high school friends are now taken apart in lieu of sitting on his couch, fingers pressing rapidly against his game console, Chinese takeout all but abandoned on the table in front of him. Between university work piling up and the self-imposed pressure to produce more content for his YouTube channel on the rise, that victory in the current game he’s fixated upon continues to evade him makes things feel all the more exasperating.

Kenma’s not happy; he supposes he hasn’t been for a while. And despite all the other aforementioned troubles the thing bothering him most, perhaps, is the large and ever looming elephant in the room named  _ Kuroo hasn’t spoken to him in weeks _ .

(They step out of the cafe together, and his shoulders hunch up when the cool breeze hits his frame. “When are you coming out to visit again?” Kenma asks, but it’s punctuated between a slight tremor that racks through his entire body.

Kuroo’s next movement is instinctive; his jacket is off before Kenma can even register the newly added layer of warmth around his shoulders, Kuroo’s coat two sizes too big but snug enough that he’s no longer shivering. It’s to be expected from his best friend: a habit picked up from elementary days that’s carried its way through adulthood, Kuroo always looking after him quicker, better than others could.

Kenma bites back a smile, but it dissipates easily enough when he looks up at the other; it’s hard to be grateful when the person he’s grateful  _ towards _ looks so painfully guilty. 

Just like he’s felt most of today, he’s uneasy under Kuroo’s gaze.

“Are …” he still tries, though. “Are you cold, too.” He means to shuffle closer, but when he sees something like physical pain flinch across Kuroo’s face he frowns. “Kuroo––”

“I should get going.” the older boy’s words are almost as quick as he stumbles over himself, already turned in the opposite direction. “Daichi’ll be waiting for me ––” he spares Kenma a look he can’t quite decipher. 

_ Your kiss, my cheek _ _   
_ _ I watched you leave _

“I’ll call, okay?”

Kenma doesn’t expect him to; it still hurts when he doesn’t.)

_ Skies grew darker _ _   
_ _ Currents swept you out again _ _   
_ _ And you were just gone and gone, gone and gone _

There’s a sudden knocking at his door that has him sit up, attentive, and Kenma frowns. He thinks it’s someone from his building, asking if he’d like to hang out (someone new, most likely, if they didn’t already know his answer would be a resounding no), or telling him someone’s passed out in the hallway (Lev, but also, no).

He’s not expecting the sudden intrusion tonight.   
He’s also not expecting the intrusion to have a 6 foot frame and messy bedhead, but here he is.

Here they are.

_ Been losing grip, on sinking ships _ _   
_ _ You showed up just in time _

“Kuro .. ?” Kenma swallows thickly, but wordlessly steps aside, allowing him in.    
It’s the first mistake.

“You said you’d call.” he finally gets out; he’s heavily aware of Kuroo’s eyes on him, and he does his best to avoid them. The older looks just as dazed, and even shittier than he had when they’d met up all those weeks ago; if this were any other situation Kenma would’ve suggested video games, or food, or ––

_ Daichi _ . He thinks. He would suggest Daichi.

_ Tossing, turning _ _   
_ _ Struggled through the night with someone new _

The brain of Nekoma, they used to call him; keep the mind working, the blood pumping –– flow, without stopping. It’s not enough to be just rational if you’re not on your feet, if you don’t see the end in mind.

If you know what you want and still don’t move to get it.

Kenma doesn’t call Daichi.   
It’s the second mistake.

In the span of ten minutes he manages to clear his counter of takeout boxes and make two cups of tea that end up sitting practically untouched anyway. All the while Kuroo doesn’t look much better, and Kenma is running out of alternatives. 

Finally, “Are you okay?” worried golden eyes finally brave themselves enough to glance up at the other through drawn eyebrows; he ushers Kuroo to the couch, and the other sits without much resistance.

They stay like this, for a while. It’s quiet in his apartment tonight; he can hear the noise of streetcars beneath his building, of traffic and crowds bustling to and fro. He likes to think he’s got a tight enough grip on reality, even with all the video games he plays –– but with the other in front of him now, he finds himself unable (unwilling?) to let go. 

> (“... you’ll visit, won’t you?”
> 
> “Don’t sound so uncertain.” The new graduate chides him, though never unkindly. Kenma hums in response, fingers twiddling at his PSP, an attempt to hide his flush. From the corner of his eye, he sees Kuroo glance down at him, offer a knowing smile.
> 
> “You’ll catch me crawling up your window at 2 am every night, and we’ll still get to play video games, and you’ll think  _ wow, this is awesome, I have the best friend _ .”
> 
> “Sounds more creepy than promising if you ask me, Kuro.”
> 
> “Semantics.” Kuroo grins again, broad and smug; Kenma fights back the urge to roll his eyes. He’s gotten quite good at that.
> 
> “Hey.” and Kenma sighs, the tone in Kuroo’s voice serious enough for him to put down his game and glance up at him fully. Kuroo’s gaze is playful, it always is, but there’s a tenderness that underlies it whenever it’s Kenma meeting his eyes.
> 
> “If you’re really worried about it, don’t. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”)

_ This love left a permanent mark _ _   
_ _ This love is glowing in the dark _

Kuroo sighs. “Daichi left.”

There’s wind knocked out of his lungs, momentarily, and Kenma doesn’t realize it until he hears how small the “ _Oh_.” that leaves his mouth is. He knows things have been … difficult for the two former captains lately –– he never needed a third party to tell him that. But he’s always stepped out of  _ this _ part of Kuroo’s business; known his best friend’s pride, the way he’d refuse to back down from something eating him from inside.

Kenma can’t seem to meet his gaze again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Kuroo mumbles; he tilts his head back and sighs, glancing up at the ceiling the way Kenma had prior to his coming. “It happens.” Kenma tries to make the argument that it  _ shouldn’t _ , but he finds himself clamming up under Kuroo’s helplessness.

“He’ll –– we’ll sort it out?” It’s a question more than it is a statement, and Kenma’s not too sure whom he’s trying to convince, but he just nods, listless. 

“He’s a good person, Kenma.” as if Kenma needed any convincing of  _ that _ , too; Daichi is just as much boy, man, as the rest of them –– just as lost, just as proud. He can see why Kuroo loves ( _ loves? _ ) him. 

“Mm.” he finally murmurs, but the unspoken question lingers in the air. 

“So … what are you doing here?”

Quiet. Beats pass without a noise, every other sound muffled in comparison to how acutely he hangs on to Kuroo’s breathing. 

And the third mistake happens in a second, split, because Kuroo looks at him, and Kenma can’t look back for too long before he feels Kuroo’s mouth on him, lunging forward to press lips to his.

Kuroo’s lips are soft, if chapped slightly by cool air, but they  _ are _ desperate, and it’s evident in the way he’s restless in the kiss –– sudden and determined and  _ yearning _ that Kenma’s initial surprise melts instinctively and he finds it inevitable to kiss back, moving forward, hand cupping his face, drawing Kuroo closer, closer––

“ _ Kuroo _ .” he sighs between kisses, a tiny noise in the back of his throat coming to the front lines when Kuroo’s mouth finds solace instead against his jaw, his neck. “This is a mist––”

“Please.” and one word is all it takes to silence him; even with his own words of opposition Kenma’s hands find themselves  _ everywhere _ , skirting over the skin under Kuroo’s shirt, needing more.

“What about––” another sigh, restless, helpless; Kuroo is kissing his jaw, his neck, lower and lower (rock bottom). “What about  _ him–– _ ”

“ _Kenma_.” and oh, Kenma’s _burning_ , his name whispered back to him against the crook of his collarbone, and he wants this, he _wants_ _him––_

“I need you.” Kuroo pleads, and when he begs, needs something –– him, especially –– how can Kenma say no?

His mind is screaming at him now, because he can’t,  _ shouldn’t _ let this happen. But Kuroo’s lips are wine, and he’s drunk on every touch, and every whisper, on the way something like  _ I love you _ is traced across his jaw.

(He had always been Kuroo’s for the taking.)

The brain of Nekoma, they used to call him; keep the mind working, the blood pumping –– flow, without stopping. It’s not enough to be just rational if you’re not on your feet, if you don’t see the end in mind.

If you know what you want and still don’t move to get it.

“Kenma––”

“Save your breath.” he kisses him.

(It’s the fourth, the fifth, the sixth mistake,    
but this time none of them feel like one.)

_ These hands had to let it go free, and _ _   
_ _ This love came back to me _

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
